Joyce Valenza’s Neverending Search

I am always a little nervous about graduation night.  Springfield’s commencement service ends with the most wonderful tradition–as our seniors exit the field, they shake hands or hug as they move down a receiving line of faculty members.  Hard as I try, I cannot remember the names of all of those students I’ve worked with for five years. It is important for me to remember those names. (Though, of course, I’ve worked more with some than with others.) 

I try to position myself near senior teachers and listen for those names I might have forgotten.  But, honestly, there is never a need to worry. 

Year after year I am touched by these kids.  The favors I may have done over five years, merely a part of my day, long forgotten, are remembered and quickly shared. They ask if they can email me next year from Penn State or James Madison or NYU.  They tell me they’ll return to visit–if not to the library, to the library website. Apologies are offered by the toughest of kids–”Can you believe what an idiot (not their exact choice of language) I was in 9th grade, Mrs. V?  Remember how I always gave you trouble?” 

I always drive home smiling from these events.  They reaffirm my choices and the fact that I actually make a difference. 

And while I am in sweet nostalgia mode, I’ll share one of those things that has kept me from blogging the past couple of weeks–the annual report–hot off the presses.